


Raspberries

by Moit



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-17
Updated: 2010-10-17
Packaged: 2018-03-29 17:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3905299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moit/pseuds/Moit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frodo over indulges in raspberries. Featuring hormonal!Frodo and sympathetic!Aragorn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raspberries

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Attendance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3905302) by [Moit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moit/pseuds/Moit). 



> This may or may not be read as a companion piece to Attendance.

Frodo munched happily on the raspberries from the bowl resting on his rounded belly. He'd been craving them something fierce lately, and when Sam arrived the day before, he brought with him an entire basket full. Aragorn had warned him not to eat too many, but how was Frodo supposed to stop himself when they were so delicious?

He popped the last of the berries into his mouth and looked down into the empty bowl in dismay. Now he'd have to get up if he wanted more, but he was so full and content, and the sun was so warm . . .

Frodo fell into a light doze, but a cramp in his belly woke him. He sat up, rubbing at his belly in an effort to calm the child inside. He stood up and began to pace the length of the balcony. Normally, a walk would calm any unease in his belly, but today it did not seem to be doing the trick. Still, Frodo paced, with one hand supporting his aching back, the other rubbing his swollen midsection. He wished fervently that Aragorn was not in meetings all day, for he would like very much for the Man to rub his feet as he lay in the bath.

The bath!

Perhaps it would provide some measure of comfort to his aching back and twisting insides.

***

Somehow, Aragorn talked his way out of the last couple of meetings, allowing him to return to his quarters earlier than expected.

“Frodo?” he called, pulling off his outer vestments which marked him as the King of Minas Tirith.

He paused a moment, listening, and his keen ears picked up the sound of retching. He followed the sound into the privvy, where he found Frodo bent over the chamber pot, a not altogether unusual sight during Frodo's pregnancy.

“Are you ill?” Aragorn asked, kneeling beside his diminutive lover.

Frodo turned his head; he was flushed, but his lips were stained red with berry juice. “I ate too many raspberries,” he moaned pitifully.

Aragorn's heart melted and he gathered the Hobbit into his arms.

***

“I am sure Frodo is correct. I do not doubt that his discomfort comes from over-indulgence in sweet fruit. Keep him on bland foods for a couple days and he will be fine,” the Healer declared, after Aragorn had tucked Frodo into their bed.

Aragorn dismissed the Man and turned back to Frodo.

“What were you thinking? Over-indulging like that?” Aragorn asked, though his tone sounded much more worried than chiding. “You could have injured yourself and our babe.” He placed one large hand over the lump Frodo's belly made beneath the blankets.

Frodo laid his hand atop Aragorn's. “You worry too much. I simply had a craving for raspberries.”

“Last week you had a craving for salted pork covered in honey. How ever am I to stay one step ahead of you to ensure you do not injure yourself?”

Frodo turned his face away. “Really, it was only a bit of fruit.”

Aragorn used his free hand to turn Frodo's chin back toward him. “I do not wish to regulate your diet, but I will if I must.”

“I would have you stop treating me like a child!” With that, Frodo threw back the bedclothes.

“Frodo,” Aragorn growled in warning.

“Aragorn, if you do not get out of my way this instant, I shall yell for the Guards and tell them all you raised a hand to the Ringbearer.”

Aghast, Aragorn could only step back in surprise as Frodo struggled out of the bed and waddled as fast as he could out of the room. Aragorn heard the privvy door slam across the hall and he sat back on his heels with a sigh. He waited until the the sounds of Frodo's retching cased before he knocked on the door.

“Frodo?”

He heard shuffling footsteps and the door opened. Frodo brushed past him without a word. Aragorn watched as Frodo crawled back into their bed and rolled away from the door, curling into himself.

“Frodo,” Aragorn said softly, approaching the bed. “Frodo, I apologize. I was out of line earlier.”

Frodo rolled onto his back and Aragorn could see the tears streaming from his eyes. Aragorn's heart fell.

“Frodo, I did not mean--”

“No, no,” Frodo sniffed and reached up to rub at his wet eyes. “I'm not mad,” he said, miserably. “I feel like I am unable to control my emotions anymore. One minute I'm angry, the next I'm sick to my stomach, and then I'm crying my eyes out for no reason at all.” He took a deep hitching breath and let it out in a huff.

Aragorn handed him a handkerchief into which he blew his nose. When he was finished, Aragorn sat down and drew the Hobbit to his chest. Frodo rested his head on Aragorn's shoulder, grateful to be in his lover's embrace. Aragorn held him, carding a hand through Frodo's hair until he fell asleep. He laid the Hobbit down gently.

As he slipped out of the room, he muttered to himself, “No more raspberries.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Attendance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3905302) by [Moit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moit/pseuds/Moit)




End file.
